Roses in December
by Ovo
Summary: Riesz, Hawkeye, and the fall of Navarre. Written for, but not published during, Yuletide 2008.


_**Roses in December**_

With the fall of Navarre, the many of the desert folk rejoiced. It was repugnant, how many of those who found joy in its downfall were the same who had once took advantage of its generosity.

The joy was short-lived. Without Navarre to unite against, the tenuous peace dissolved; city-states and townships began to quarrel amidst themselves, and bandits likewise encroached on the niche that the thieves' guild had long occupied. Merchants hired mercenaries against their competitor's caravans, and brigands held none of the mercy of their forebears. Nomadic tribes could defend themselves only by keeping hidden, often by filtering into the city as laborers and settling where they fell.

The desert was now more dangerous than it had ever been.

Only one facet of this concerned her. News had come late to Rolante, and even then purely on the wings of rumor. Riesz had taken leave of her king and her sistren, to see firsthand the condition of the desert nations. They were no threat to her country – their petty squabbles barely reached the rocky foothills that distinguished the edge of their domain – but it never hurt to be certain. No one outside the desert seemed to know what had become of the thieves' guild, and no one within its borders would offer her a straight answer.

The problem, it seemed, was how obviously foreign she was. She had given up her Rolantean armor for clothing more suited for desert travel, but she still walked with foreign confidence, still talked foreign words. She carried a weapon suited for mercenaries, _soldiers_, not for merchants. She was not one of them, and for that simple reason would she never find that which she sought.

Rather, she had begun to hope that which she sought would find her.

The days were long, the air scorched and heavy. As she walked through the crowded marketplace, at a lull from the midday heat, it felt as if the desert fire had trickled down from the sun to rest upon her shoulders. This was the biggest social hub of the desert; she had been here for days, and a few of the merchants and mercenaries now knew she was there, if not who she was or why she had come.

"Girl!" The gruff, thickly accented voice dogged her footsteps. "Wait, girl!"

She paused, uncertain that perhaps the man was addressing _her_. As the appointed commander of the Rolante army, she had outgrown _girl_ at an age when most people were worrying over simplistic trivialities. As a hero, she had outgrown _woman_ by leaps and bounds. Still, her experience reflected that many people were merely ignorant, which she was willing to forgive.

The stranger caught up to her, stepping in front of her as though to cut her off. Silently, Riesz sized the man up. He was underfed, but with a lean scruffiness that might have attested to thinning beastman blood. Likely to be a slave, she realized suddenly, taking in his ragged attire. Her heart went out to him – she did not like slavers, or slave owners – but it was a measure of stability in this land.

"So, uh... I hear you ask for thieves." When she didn't answer, he reached up to stroke the avian feathers that adorned the shaft of her spear, with a subtle admiration in his eyes. "Hunting?"

"Hunting?" she echoed. Jerking Gungnir out of his reach, she swung the weapon in a deft arc, bearing the midpoint defensively.

Under his grime, and his deep tan, the man visibly paled. He backed up two steps, waving his hands in front of him peaceably. "I mean you no offence! My master seeks for protection. They said you have been in town days, they said you take no other jobs. My master thinks maybe you hunt thieves, maybe we walk the same road, eh?"

"I'm not looking for a job," the Amazon replied curtly. Out of politeness sake, she had given ear to a few offers already, none of which she was interested in to begin with. This only pressed people further, who thought, in error, that she wanted more money, or a higher benefit. After all, a warrior that did not fight could only be holding out for something more glorious.

"No? No..." The man hunched further, then straightened up brightly, "But where to you go, eh? Perhaps we walk the same road alone at the same time, thieves no attack girl, no attack master either, eh?"

"I have yet to decide," Riesz replied cautiously. This did little to dissuade the man, who clapped his hands together and pointed at her.

"You decide, you tell me, too, eh?" he said, pointing to himself, "My master will listen to old Hrokh. If I say thieves come, they come. If I say thieves no attack girl, my master will listen. To find me, we camp at the hostel today."

His message delivered, he began to turn away, but she caught him by the arm. Warily, she studied his vapid, confused response; finding no trace trickery, she asked forthright, "Why do you think they wouldn't attack me?"

"Smart, thieves are," Hrokh winked, grinning wide. A beastman, definitely, "A little, I am smart too."

The woman loosened her grip as she considered, then let go altogether. "Tomorrow morning, I leave for Hari," she confided, "Your master may come if he wishes. I want no money, only the company."

His grin split wider, Hrokh looked nigh about to howl to the moons in glee. He chuckled, a short rasping sound. "This evening, we leave. Avoid the sun."

"Alright," Riesz conceded as she turned away, "I will meet you this evening, at the hostel."

"Good girl," his words again trailed behind her, "kind girl, to take pity on my poor, poor master."

Scowling, she made her way towards the center of the city – towards the oasis. The hours were long, and she did not want company that any of the hostels or inns tried to ply her with. Finding a quiet spot under the shade of a palm brush bush, she waited out the evening, saving her strength. She knew that she would need it.

oOo

The sun dropped beyond the distant mountains, heralding the comforting breath of the desert evening. The wind was so calm here; Riesz couldn't help but feel discomfited. It wasn't always like this, the desert. In many of the sandswept vales, the wind howled as strongly as atop any mountain peak. In its silence, it felt strange... _like it's waiting_, she came to realize as she brushed herself off.

The first moons hung low over the sky, and Hrokh's caravan was already waiting when she joined them. His master – a shrewd, wiry old man – instantly set her intuition on edge. He studied her with an overbearing arrogance, and turned away with an air of distaste. Riesz smiled wryly under the shade of her hood... as if _she_ were someone to sneeze at. Once his master had gone to his place, Hrokh chuckled and waved her forward; the procession began to move, and she found herself walking astride the first wagon, at sideguard.

Of the other sentries, the few she could see wore marks of their loyalty branded into their skin. Not one questioned her presence. There were six of them that she counted, strategically placed but barely cognizant of their surroundings. A few hands, including Hrokh, filled the gaps, but she doubted they would shore up the difference, even if pressed. Only one other mercenary accompanied them – a young marksman of little repute, judging by the weapons he carried... and the way he held his head high and proud.

Riesz did not learn his name, but he was the first to fall – that mercenary. The attack came out of the dark, from above the ridge of the chasm walls... swift and efficient, it could have been planned by Skuld, herself. The marksman hit the sand behind her, and barely had she the time to turn around, her back to the exposed safety of the rock face, before half the slaves were slaughtered. Many of the freemen fled, only to be cut down by the second volley. Joined by one of his fellow slaves, Hroth rent the rest apart. The latter had torn his master's head from his shoulders, as the old man took refuge from the bloodbath, and bandied it about like a trophy.

The brigands appeared moments later, climbing down the rock walls like wraiths in the night. They likely could have killed her, if they had wanted her dead. Instead, they bustled around – all but one, a woman whom Riesz pegged as the leader – ransacking the wagons and patting down the corpses for whatever valuable was to be had. Meanwhile, Hroth caught sight of her, pressed against the cliff as she stood in mute shock, and smiled; Riesz did not consider herself lucky.

And the looting was finished, Hrokh crouched at the leading woman's heels, no less a slave. The wagons were set to burn, casting a warm, if chilling, glow on the cold desert night. After appraising the carnage, she approached the Rolantean princess with a strangely serene air.

"Riesz, Shield of the Mountain King," the stranger recited, respectful yet with enough familiarity that they ought to have met before. "Of all the people to cross our desert, you are the last I would have expected."

"Your memory is adrift on the breeze," Riesz answered, quoting a Rolantean proverb. She did not know this woman, but the disadvantage was hers. The decorated trident, the ribbon deftly braided into her hair... Only that might have marked her origin, and certainly not her name or her station. Regardless, she would get nowhere being impolite.

"My name is Sparrow," the brigand introduced herself with a wan smile behind her veil, "You would not remember me: I was in Navarre when you infiltrated our fortress."

Her trust conflicted, Riesz shrugged – the Navarre she knew did not murder and pillage, but rather heckled the rich and opulent. "You're right, I don't remember you."

"No, but _I_ remember _you_," Sparrow flicked her finger at the princess' chest, "Fortunately for you. Asking after thieves, traveling with sinister old slavers..." she clucked her tongue, and reached down to scratch Hroth's unkempt mane. "My dear, the desert is dangerous enough as it is these days without inviting trouble. Hawkeye would have my braids for letting one of his dear friends be sold into bondage... then again-"

Letting the rest of the lecture fall to the wayside, Riesz hissed in surprise. "He's alive then?"

"Last I knew," the brigand said. "He's two night's journey from here, eastward, through one oasis and before another. You could comb the rocks for months and never find him, but he's there. He'll find you."

Letting her gaze fall upon the still high fires of the caravan, Riesz scowled, "And how do I know I can trust you. Like you said, the desert is dangerous these days."

"You've kept company with Navarre thieves before," Sparrow answered. "Do you honestly think I would lie to you?" She tsked, and offered amicably, "Camp with us today, and we'll show you the come evening."

"I would rather start immediately." Riesz studied the tips of Gungnir, reflecting deep the orange of the fire, "I'll go alone, if I have to. I don't mind traveling alone."

"As you wish," Sparrow nodded. "Do you have supplies? Water?"

"I have my own."

"At least take an extra waterskin; It's going to be a hot day today."

Riesz sighed in resignation, smiling ever faintly. "As you wish."

In the end, Sparrow insisted on her taking an extra waterskin and three packets of dried fruit before they parted. It was a fool's trek, perhaps, or a trick, a trap sprung by her own faded hope, but it was all she had to go on. Now, perhaps more than ever, she needed to know the truth.

Leaving the battleground behind her, Riesz traveled into the sunrise. In three days, not two, she made her way past one oasis, and, though a sandstorm, near enough to another – even if the second was not _quite_ an oasis. She had come upon a rock cliff, over which fell a cascade of water. The waterfall fed into a simmering hot spring, the steam escaping the rocks to billow up into the sky to cast pale rainbows by the light of the moons. A few prickly shrubs made their home where stray water from above fell, but this near the old Mana stone was all sand-filled rock basins and narrow canyons.

Here, the volcanic rock formed a wall that she would have to backtrack around or climb over. Wondering if perhaps she had lost her way in the storm, found her way into the wrong canyon, she paused her pacing to think it over. Although she was certainly not far from Hari, if she felt pressed to double back for supplies, she had no wish to get lost in a maze of stone. Turning back, she thought to make it to the town first and foremost.

A sharp whistle echoed above the din of the rushing water, stopping Riesz in her tracks. A quick survey of the cliff revealed nothing, but on second glance, she found a man, clad in darkness, watching her from a perch halfway up the wall, and near to the waterfall itself. Throwing back her hood, the woman studied the figure intently before whistling back.

Abruptly, the shadow vanished.

Wraithlike, the man reappeared from under the waterfall, through a cave well hidden from prying eyes. He was thinner than she remembered, although not altogether unhealthy. She could not tell if it was hardship, or how he had grown since they last met, the fact that he was soaked through, or a little of each. All in all, he looked a bit haggard around the edges... but this simply made him appear more roguish than ever. On a better day, Riesz thought he might appreciate such a sentiment. But today was not that day.

Instead, they stared at one another silently, and in the end embraced, ignoring the fact that he was still sopping wet.

oOo

In the middle of a sand basin, higher in the crags, Hawkeye had made a garden for himself. As she had watched him accept fusion with a long-dead assassin's soul with little more than a shrug at the potentially disastrous consequences, it was difficult for her to think of him as a mere gardener.

But he appeared to have some talent for it – to grow a handful of trees and a score of bushes, many of which were in flower. He went from plant to plant while they caught up on old times, pruning here or there. Riesz leaned on her spear, watching him work from the center of all the growth.

"So when we were determined to restore the forest," he was explaining, "we kinda... got ahead of ourselves. We'd need peace to do it, right? All this antagonism had to go." He snorted, "Right, so – the Flame Khan sent his nephew out to talk peace with the guild leaders. No one thought they'd hurt a little boy... that was our first mistake." He was silent for a moment, then shrugged, forgetting the flowers he was tending, "They tortured him to find out the location of the fortress, and sent him back in pieces."

"So, uh... Father met them at the gates," focused on cleaning the dirt out from under his nails, Hawkeye laughed – a soft, heartless chuckle that Riesz had always found unnerving, even before she knew it was his substitute for open mourning. "My sister... You really made an impact on her, you know that? She wanted me to teach her the knives." Jessica's shawl was still tied to his belt, she had noted, spotted dark with what Riesz could only believe was blood. As Hawkeye spoke, he collected his implements together and, leaving them together in a corner, waved for her to follow him back into the network of caves. "The rest of us didn't last long... I tried to save the few I could, but, you know."

"We were worth thousands of lucre a piece, and the headhunters were ruthless." He concluded his tale with a tight smile, taking her hand as the moonlight faded behind them. "And that is how the thieves guild ended."

He led her through the dark, back to the sheltered cave that looked out over the waterfall. He had made his home here, easily enough; this was where he lived, the entire time was she oblivious or worried sick and searching. They stood together under the angled skylight in silence, basking in one another's company.

"I'm glad to see you," Hawkeye finally admitted, squeezing her hand, "I really am."

"I'm glad you're alive." She hesitated, then shrugged, mostly to herself. Hawkeye was one of the few people she ever felt compelled to be open with. "I missed you."

"Yeah, well," he haughtily glanced off at some significant nothing over her shoulder, then sneaked a glance back at her, not-quite-grinning, "I missed you more."

"Don't start," Riesz warned, not-at-all-grinning, herself. She reached for his other hand, even as he protested his innocence.

"Hey, I'm not the one starting any-"

Her lips met his, softly breaking his defense. She reiterated, "Hush," and his breath hitched in a short snicker.

"My pleasure."

To Riesz, Hawkeye had always been something of a wonder. Perhaps some of it was owed to the years between, but she felt certain that he was the only man alive who could walk out from the fires of tragedy and not change heart in the least.

oOo

The waning light painted the rocky desert cove in a bright array of reds and golds, spilling over into his meager grotto almost as an afterthought of the setting sun. It reflected off of her skin, and cast her hair in a golden glow, reminding him in some sense of the nobles' statues she always insisted on paying homage to. He shaded her face with his hand, marveling at how outlandishly _pale_ she was. He hadn't been awake for very long, but, as an afterthought, he felt glad that he was.

When the sun had moved on, that it no longer fell across her eyes, instead grazing across her bare shoulder, Hawkeye let his arm fall across her waist. Intent on letting the rest of the afternoon heat run its course without him, he pressed his face against the back of her neck and let his mind drift away. Dozing off again, he found himself listening to the faint echoes of the cave. Instead of being lulled back to sleep, he opened his eyes wide and studied the familiar rough wall of his home, trying to find what was amiss.

Then he heard it again: a splash, echoed softly from the deep, enough to drudge him out of his daylight drowse. He wondered if the accompanying curse was merely the deception of his paranoid ears.

"Um, Riesz?" he murmured into her ear.

"Mmm?" She sighed deeply, perfectly content to sleep so deeply.

"I hate to ask, but... well," Hawkeye wished he could have let her sleep, but the gnawing sense of danger was making him restless. Maybe it was nothing, he _hoped_ it was nothing, "How did you find me?"

"Sparrow told me where you were."

A shock of ice poured down his back. Riesz must have noticed his alarm; although she made no outward sign of it, he was certain that she, too, was now wide awake. It was all he could do to squeeze her shoulder, a kindly reassurance for himself more than for her. "We have to go. _Now_, like."

Scrambling for his clothes – and fully expecting the princess to follow his lead – Hawkye dashed for the way out above the waterfall. Down below, the sands were disturbed, marking a recent passage into his valley. Riesz appeared after him on the narrow ledge, spear in hand and cloak thoughtlessly tossed over one shoulder. He scoffed at that – _trust an Amazon to be war-practical_.

"Riesz, here," he tossed her his heavy overshirt, and receiving a skeptical, even gaze in return. "Hey, I know how you don't like to be, you know-... in a fight" he made a gesture for _hanging out_, which was lost on her, and shook his head, instead focusing on hitching up his trousers. "Right."

As she juggled the cloak, the spear, and pulling on the tunic, he crept past her to peer back into his home. He had his fair share of enemies since the flame of Navarre plummeted to the sands, but it nagged at him that any bounty hunter would be after him in the guise of his dead cousin. There was a possibility, he entertained... _no_, there wasn't. Even if she wasn't dead, she was certainly gone like the rest of them.

Yet, he couldn't shake the feeling.

His old sash hung off the same spur of rock as it had when he first arrived in this place; his daggers, long unused, dangled in plain sight. It was enticing to tempt fate by making a grab for them – maybe Riesz had the right idea – but before he could make up his mind, there were two men creeping through the speckled morning sunlight.

Not quite desperate, Hawkeye struggled to wake Munir, but there was a distance between them now, and the old soul was foggy with sleep. Still, he traversed the cave, to lure them out by his own shadow. He took one, Riesz took the other, and his enemies were dashed to the rocks below. As he did, he beheld the heart of his troubles. Moreover, _she_ saw _him_.

"Oh, _Mana_," he swore. He glanced at Riesz, who hadn't seen, _hadn't known_, and waved to her, pointing the way. "Go, _go_."

With practiced ease, Riesz scrambled up to the top of ridge, and turned around to pull him up after her. She led the way along the narrow precipice; the wind was picking up in the north, and she followed it like a beacon.

"Wait," Hawkeye grabbed her arm suddenly, "Split up. It's my head they're after. Bet, ten to one, they won't even go after you."

"Are you out of your mind?" she asked flatly. He couldn't but blink at that.

"Eh? Yeah, a little bit," the Navarri admitted. He saw what she didn't – they were on a single winding path that dropped off steeply on both sides, and the desert rolled up to meet them. "Sorry."

With an apologetic shrug, he shoved her off balance, sending her careening down the dune. With no less hesitation, he dove down the other side, rolling down the shifting sands to reach safety the bottom of the gully. There he waited, sparing an impatient glance at the sky. A sandstorm was brewing, and had already begun to blot out the sun.

His adversary wasn't long in picking up his trail. As soon as she noticed him, he ducked under the nearest arch, looking for a way back up the ridge. The one that suited his purpose was on the opposite side; she chased him to a standstill, where his ridge ended. He was foolish enough to think that she could not reach him, whereas she was brazen enough to leap after him.

The thought was there and gone; he _could_ have let her fall. But there had to be a way out – a lure, a trick, _anything_ – that didn't end with one of them dead. He caught her as she slipped, maintaining his balance by counter-weight alone. Managing to mount the brink, she hunched over to catch her breath, while he rolled aside to give her space and to do the same.

Only she didn't stay down very long – moments later, he heard the muffled _clink_ of her daggers being drawn. Scrambling to his feet, he put his back to the cliff and faced her – it was the last he could do; she wouldn't listen, wouldn't _reason_... even as his felt a spark of hope at seeing her again.

"I didn't think you were still alive," he told her, doing nothing to stave off the inevitable.

"I don't feel that I am," she replied, and he sighed, deep sorrow welling up at that.

"Listen, I..." he fumbled for the words, "I didn't mean for _any_ of this to happen."

"That doesn't matter," she spat, "It happened. There's nothing left."

"That's not true." He shook his head, pleading for her to listen to reason, pleading to the Goddess to offer up a miracle. "_Listen_ to me – we're strong, you and me. The guild can live again; _we_ can live again. Together, we can rebuild-" He jumped away from her first strike quickly, earning a deep cut on his arm as he defended himself from the second. Stumbling backward, he landed perilously close to the edge. It was his shield – he doubted that she would risk the fall.

She coiled for the strike, and he knew he was wrong; she wanted vengeance, at any cost.

Before she could deal the blow, her wrist was caught, jerked backward and broken. In death, she found herself face to face with the Shield of Rolante. Riesz had mastered the spear years before the Navarri renegade had ever picked up a knife, and held no mercy in her heart.

For the moment at least, the danger had passed; Riesz was by his side in an instant. She gathered him in her arms, dragging him back from the edge, and he clung to her for dear life.

"I wish you hadn't," he mumbled. He wanted nothing more than to take refuge in darker, borrowed memories. "But I don't know, part of me, I'm almost glad you did."

"You're lucky I didn't take your damn bet," she rasped in return. Battered by the day, they clung to one another until the sandstorm subsided.

oOo

Together, they buried the girl among the Navarre cairns. Between the four bounty hunters that she had left patrolling Hawkeye's roost, and a band of mercenaries that had since claimed the Navarre fortress as their own, it was a difficult journey.

Kneeling before the graves of his people, Hawkeye lost himself in thought. He might not have been the last of the Guild, but he felt no hope of finding the others now. The smart ones were underground or emigrated. Others – like _her_ – had turned on their own, although he felt that his blame to bear.

Knowing it was truly over did little to settle his spirit.

Riesz stood beside him, not exactly a constant in his life, but ever unmovable as the mountains she called home. For that, he was grateful.

"I'm taking you back with me," she told him, gently enough but firm. Hawkeye smiled, shallow but wry.

"Don't I get a choice?" he asked, although not expecting an answer. Standing to stretch his legs, he added, "I can't go. They'll die without me."

Perplexed, Riesz cast a skeptical glance at the graves. "Who?"

"The trees," he brushed the dirt off his hands, studying the lines he found there, "They're all that's left of-... They're all I have left."

"Those trees will only live as long as you," she clasped a hand over his shoulder, and trailed her fingers down his bandaged arm, "but if that's the way you feel."

Letting go, she walked away.

"Riesz..." she didn't stop, and didn't look back. Hawkeye called after her, "Look – if I'm not there by the time you leave, I'm not coming."

oOo

Sultan by day was different than Sultan by night.

Regardless of Hawkeye's inborn sense of paranoia, no one knew him, not as he was. The thief strolled freely and unhindered through the main street, heading straight for the docks before his luck turned. Sneaking aboard the southbound ship with practiced ease, he sought out Riesz, whom he found below deck, curled up on the bunk and drowsy from the desert sun. He dropped to his knees beside her, resting his head against the padded mattress.

"If you tie me up in cooking and cleaning," he swore, not knowing if she heard him, "I'll find someplace better to go."

He flinched when her hand crawled up the back of his neck, and relaxed his guard as she entwined her fingers in his hair. This was not peace, but it was far closer than that he once imagined he could allow himself... and he had to admit that it would be a damn decent bargain for his sins, if ever he learned to let go.

_**the end**_

**Working Title**: _Fall of Navarre_

**Inspiration**: Yuletide.

**Noteworthy**: This was the first fic for Yuletide I wrote, except that I was not satisfied enough with it to post at the time. I'm still not sure I'm satisfied with it. In fact, I had better post it before I change my mind!

**Disambiguation**: The unnamed Navarri woman was originally an OC named _Sandrose_. Later in writing, I had another idea for her, which didn't really pan out. So instead of deciding between ideas, she became simply "the unnamed Navarri woman."

**Dedication**: Meeerf.

_Derivative work of material © Squaresoft, Square-Enix. Originally written for Yuletide 2008, but never published._


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